Helen continued to study the unfinished house; it looked more like an abstract painting of a house than an actual house. The shape was there, the geometry that said house. She tried to envision the house finished, sided with clapboards, the windows in, a warm light glowing behind them. She tried to imagine Nate peering down at her from up in the library: Nate holding a book in one hand, waving to her with the other. But soon that image was replaced by another figure: Hattie in her white dress, hands pressed against the window glass, peering down, waiting for Helen. Helen blinked, looked up at the unfinished plywood nailed to the studs.

She remembered Nate’s words last night: I love the places your imagination takes you.

She went into the dark house, half expecting Nate to be there, but he wasn’t. Only their empty sleeping bags, burned-out candles.

She went to work, getting out the tools she’d need to start cutting out the windows. She started on the first, the relatively small bathroom window, drilling holes in all four corners, just inside the two-by-sixes that made up the window frame. Then she guided the blade of the reciprocal saw along the inner edge of the frame. She popped the rectangle of plywood out, and she had an open window. The edges were a little woggly here and there, but it didn’t matter; once they got the window in and put up the trim and siding, it would look perfect. Most of their windows had been delivered and were being stored under one of the pop-up canopies. According to Nate’s schedule, they should have put them in two weeks ago.

Nate. Where the hell was Nate?

She set down her tools, went outside and did a walk around the perimeter of the yard, calling. Then down to the trailer. No sign of him.

She imagined him coming back from a walk, smiling, teasing her for having been worried.

Helen went back up to the house and went to work on the second window, telling herself she was sure he’d be back by the time she finished. Then, still no sign, she started on the third. With each section of plywood cut out, more sunlight poured into the house, chasing the shadows away. She felt her body relax as she got into the work. Helen was nearly finished with the fourth window when she decided this was ridiculous. She needed to find Nate. She’d take the truck and drive into town—maybe he’d walked down to the store? If she didn’t find him there, she’d drive to Olive’s, see if she and her dad could help her search.

She was on her way out the door to get the keys from the trailer when she saw Nate coming up from the direction of the bog.

Thank God!